The One Where Things Were Different
by Science. And. Faith. Too
Summary: A one-shot, or possibly, a series of one-shots featuring a world of Will and Lou.
1. Chapter 1

**This might be a one-shot, or a series of one-shots. The pacing is fast because it is a one shot! Please keep that in mind. Above all, enjoy! Also, if I've accidentally switched perspectives, please let me know. This piece is a rough cut, but I wanted it up here anyway.**

The sun had sunk low into the horizon, casting a strangely calm orange hue over the hills of Ardennes. The winds blew warm air through his hair, and filled his senses with the pungent scent of wild flowers and honey. The man slid his sunglasses on, and felt a smile tug at his lips. The meeting had been stressful, and necessary, but satisfying, as much of his work had always felt. It was these moments, these moments of exhilarating, heart thumping, heart-breaking simple, quiet, beautiful moments that he lived for.

The roads were mostly deserted, save for a few small establishments offering cold beverages and sweet cakes. He had just decided to stop over at the next town for a coffee and madeleine when he spotted her. A woman, decked out in an astonishingly bright pair of yellow and black tights, was lugging what appeared to be an ancient carrier about half a mile down the road.

"Are you okay?" The woman had stumbled back when he pulled up, but hadn't run away. His English seemed to please her.

She blew a few strands of hair away from her face. Her sunglasses obscured her eyes, but she managed a half smile.

"No. Of course, I'm not. I was supposed to be dropped off at a town called…something, but the driver misunderstood, and then left me here, in the middle of nowhere!"

He suppressed a smile, afraid she would take a turn into furious if he did.

"Hop in. I'll give you a ride."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You're offering a complete stranger a ride?"

He shrugged, doing a quick assessment of her again. Her tights were strange, but other than that, he didn't seem to detect any red flags. Her brown hair was bound in what looked like a fairly accurate imitation of Princess Leia's buns. Giving a Star Wars fan a ride was the least of his worries.

"You getting in, or what?"

The man popped the trunk of his car open.

"What's your name anyway?"

"Will."

"Lou."

* * *

He glanced over at her. She was adjusting her seatbelt, and had finally removed her sunglasses. Curious brown eyes assessed every inch of the car, almost frantically, as if noting down the emergency exits on an air plane.

"What brings you here, Lou? All the way from England?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Business, actually. This is the pleasure part."

"Backpacking. I finally plucked up the courage to leave home, and here, waiting for me, was the universe's response."

Will chuckled. "Can't be all that bad. The universe sent me."

The corners of her eyes creased in amusement.

"I mean, look at that sunset. It's not all bad."

She looked straight ahead, and her eyes became unfocused. A slow smile spread over her face, and suddenly, she began to laugh.

* * *

The car stopped just a mile or two away from the next town. The engine had blown, and Will was furious. He kicked the tyre a couple of times, before Lou finally pressed him away and suggested they walk to the next town to sleep, and then get help in the morning.

The stars winked happily overhead, and the cicadas chirped merrily. Lou swung her heels around, and hummed a tune under her breath. She was so bright, and cheerful, that slowly, as he continued to observe her, to smile with her, the anger ebbed away.

"We've been together for three hours, and I still know little to nothing about you. You could be a serial killer. I could have picked up a serial killer."

A strange, gurgling sound erupted from Lou, and she threw her arms wide. "I am a murderer, and I thirst for sweet man flesh!"

Will laughed. She laughed, in spite of herself.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Anything."

"That's a big ask from a stranger."

So, she began. She told him about her family; her father, her mother, her sister, her nephew, her grandad. They were a kooky bunch. They lived in a small flat in Notting Hill, and shared pretty much everything. She had worked at a few cafes over the years to save enough to go traveling, which is what she was doing now. She had had to leave a boyfriend and friends behind, but had been happy to leave her small town and job at the Buttered Bun to see a world she had always been curious about. She was like a bee. She was sweet, and could hardly be contained.

"Where does the fashion sense come from?"

Her smile slipped a little. She pursed her lips, and proceeded to slowly undo her hair buns. Loose, wavy hair fell around her face, and she partially obscured herself from Will's view. He almost reached out to brush her hair back. Until that moment, he hadn't realised how beautiful she was. Her eyes were sad, but as brown as ever. He could have swam in them, they were so deep.

Her voice was quiet. "That's a longer story."

"We have all night."

She didn't respond, simply keeping her gaze trained forward.

Will cleared his throat and clapped his hands. "Right. Perhaps it's my turn." He began his big story about his family, his schooling, his philandering. That received a few looks and laughs, and suddenly she was back to her cheerful self. Whatever her story was, he was sure she would tell him, or someone, one day.

When they finally reached a hotel in the next town, they were so comfortable with each other, and shared so much, that it seemed like they had been friends for years. He rarely felt this way with anyone. Who was this woman?

He had requested two rooms adjacent to each other, but waited while they sorted out housekeeping. She slipped his jacket off her shoulders, and offered it back to him with a smile.

"Mr Traynor, your rooms are ready."

He offered the man his credit card, when Lou's hand flew out and clasped his.

"Mr Traynor?" Her eyes were wider than ever.

"Yes?"

"You're a Traynor."

"Right. Have been for 35 years."

"Oh, Lord. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"Does that change something?"

She swallowed. "Absolutely nothing."

"So, you'll let me pay then? I'm not letting you pay."

"Because you assume I can't?"

"What? Jesus Christ, of course not."

"Because I can. I don't need some—"

Their argument was interrupted when the hotel doors flew open, and a rowdy group of drunk men stumbled in. They were wearing glittering party hats with the words, "Pierre's Big One," emblazoned loudly across the top.

Lou's hand clasped his again, stronger this time, in what seemed to be fear rather than protest. Will realised Lou was shaking. He paid silently, and he led her up to her room. Her eyes hadn't left the men until they were safely enclosed in the lift. Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong. When they reached her door, she refused to let go of his hand. Her knuckles were clenched tight, and had turned a sharp white.

"Lou, you're okay. You can let go."

When she didn't let go, he sighed, and pulled her toward his room. The room was decorated simply, with a king's sized bed, a couch, and a nice lamp. Heavy, thick curtains were pulled open to reveal rays of moonlight that flicked its way across the carpet.

Lou silently detached herself and locked herself in the bathroom. When she emerged twenty minutes later, it was without a word. Lou paid no heed to Will's quizzical looks. She unpacked her suitcase, dressed, and curled up in a ball on the coach with her back to the bed. And him.

His questions would lay unanswered.

* * *

When morning broke, a cheery face smiled down at him. The smell of hazelnut coffee greeted his senses.

"Hmmm. When did you wake up?"

"A couple of hours ago." Will pushed himself up, and peered out the window. It had to only be 7:00. She hadn't slept. The circles under her eyes just about confirmed that.

Still smiling, she gestured to the table beside him, to a tray filled with pancakes and waffles.

"Wasn't sure what you wanted, so I ordered both."

"And you?"

"I ate."

Will simply nodded, but silently wondered where her empty tray was if she had really eaten, as she had claimed.

"Listen…about last night..." She kept her eyes down, and that veil of sadness enveloped her again. The light that usually burgeoned within her flickered.

"It's fine."

"No, it's just that—"

"It's part of the longer story."

"Huh?"

Will sipped his coffee and repeated, "The longer story."

"Right."

"My only question is, how did you know that you could trust me to be in the same room? I'm a bloody stranger! I could have been a murderer!" He tried to imitate the impression she had done before.

A laugh escaped her lips, and then, her smile softened. "No…you're not."

* * *

The car had been stolen.

Will tried to keep my anger from simmering up to the surface when the tow truck reported back with no sighting of the car. Lou was as cheerful as ever, making yesterday seem like a horrible anomaly.

"We could catch a bus, or a train back to one of the bigger cities?"

"Hmmm." Will took a deep breath. "No. Let's go back slowly." He smiled, his eyes bright. "I'll grab a map."

Will traced his finger along the crisp lines of the map, suggesting they take a look at some sites on their way, to make the most of it. He insisted they make the trip by public transport, or alternatively, hitchhiking. She wasn't as adventurous as that last one, but conceded. Lou was up for it.

And so, they went. They ate their way across France over twenty days; slept in hotels, motels, bed and breakfasts, barnyards. Lou learned to cook croissants and madeleines, make macaroons, which he loved, and banana crepes that were so deliciously perfect, he could have eaten it for days.

He remembered nights where they would lay under the stars and tell stories. He remembered splashing around in rivers, and lakes, fishing in ponds, taste testing blocks of cheese with hilarious trepidation. He remembered her face by the firelight, warm, and caramel, full of light, so beautiful.

Their last day before they reached Paris was swung around far more quickly than either of them had anticipated.

They were at a cosy bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the big city, enjoying one last day of sunshine. Lou was dressed especially brightly today, despite the sober mood. Her bumblebee tights were back, and so were her Leia buns.

"Looks like we're coming full circle."

Her hands flew self-consciously to her buns, and a smile lit her face. The blush that worked its' way across her cheeks made his heart clench.

The days with Lou had been the best of his life. He was away from work, and happily at that, experiencing new things with her, and more importantly, being himself without the slightest bit of consciousness. She had that effect on him. She was so joyful, and unabashed about it, that one couldn't help but feel completely safe and comfortable around her.

She wasn't his typical choice of a woman. Hell, if he had met her at a party or business event, he would not have spared a second look at her. Perhaps not even a first. She was beautiful, but in truth, not the supermodel blonde, leggy type he had developed an affinity for. And yet, whenever she smiled, everything paled in comparison. There was a truth in that smile. His world blurred.

Her brown eyes, her smile, called out to his soul. And he was powerless not to respond.

The last night, they spent lying on her hotel room floor, the windows thrown open, lights low. Lou stuttered, equivocated, and stared. Finally, after several failed beginnings and silences, she began her longer story. She told him where her confidence came from. Why she started wearing outrageous outfits. The reason she had left everything behind and travelled alone overseas, when she had never even been out of her town.

Tears slid unchecked down her cheeks, and she sobbed, and cried, and he held her hand, held her during the heavier moments.

Afterward, there was only silence. And then their eyes met. When her face was only an inch away; so close he could trace her face, her lips with his fingertips; so close he could smell her scent; so close he could see teardrops clinging to the ends of her eyelashes, he pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Lou—"

Her hands, those hands that had clasped his in the lobby that first day, reached out and cupped his face. Words escaped him, letters evaporated. She tipped her forehead forward, and leaned against his. Her breathing was sallow, but sure. Her lips quivered. And then, they moved closer, until he felt them brush, barely, against his own.

"I trust you, William Traynor." Her voice was a whisper, like the wind calling outside.

Will closed his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm not the guy for you. I'll ruin things…I always have. I'll hurt you, and I won't be able to bear it."

Her response came a few seconds later, a brush of lips against his forehead, his cheeks, and then, his lips once more. And he responded. An irrepressible moan escaped him. Tentatively, slowly, and then deeply, he kissed the woman who had changed everything.

* * *

She was beautiful in the morning, tousled hair, and smooth skin like silk, freckled in gold. The sunlight had crept out, until it finally stretched his rays out, bathing her, this angel, in a beautiful, warm light. Will kissed her bare shoulder, her hair, and extremely gently and briefly, her lips.

"Will Traynor, are you watching me? Now, that's creepy." Her murmur did not meet her eyes.

He chuckled, and leaned down to kiss her again. The response was quick, and then pulled him closer, until he was entangled with her again. His heart was so full, he was sure it would burst. She was everything. Her lips were sweet, like the madeleines she made, and unyielding, like no one he had ever had before. When she finally let go of him, something flickered in her eyes.

"What happens now?"

"Everything."

 **I also apologise for poor historical, geographical, and culinary knowledge of France. I was lazy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_A re-imagined scenario after Alicia's wedding at the hotel. Unfortunately, I will only be posting one-shots and no full fledged stories because of university and work commitments. I like to write between everything, so I apologise for the delay in between. My one-shots are most fluff, and happy, because those moments were lost to us in the book, because Will and Lou never really started._**

"You want me to what?"

"Keep him company, help him through a few physio exercises. Will is so close to complete recovery. He's itching to get back on his feet."

"Shouldn't a qualified professional do this? Someone…like you, I mean?"

The man, Nathan, shook his head.

"I'm back at the hospital now. The shifts are long, and the work is heavy. I can't come out here every day."

"I—"

"Look – Lou right? Lou, you'll be fine! You've got a good spirit about you. It's exactly what he needs."

I swallowed my last excuse, and simply nodded. I needed the money…and I honestly, how hard could it be?

* * *

It was hard. Will was difficult, sometimes due to his health, but on occasion, on purpose I guessed, was horrible just for the sake of being horrible.

He would moan about sandwiches with crusts, and water spotted glasses. It drove me mad. The man was being irritable just because he felt like it.

After days of just putting up with it, one afternoon, unable to take it, I finally snapped. I shouted at him, telling him how inconsiderate and foul he was. I told him that though his condition was out of his control, his behaviour was. And then I stormed out. I was still huffing and puffing and muttering the whole way home.

Will was different the next day. He barely spoke, but he didn't whinge. I smiled, and continued on with my work. All in all, the work was fairly simple, as Nathan had promised. He was around for an hour a day, usually before he began his shift at the hospital, to check on Will, and work him through some of the more vigorous exercises. For the first couple of weeks, he stuck around for the hour after, training me through cool down exercises, and stretches. After he deemed me proficient enough to carry on without him, he left straight after the hour with a smile for me, and a wave for Will.

These hours with Will were torturous but after our talk, slowly transformed into the best part of my day. We would talk about movies, and books, and bag each other out for just about everything. He constantly teased me about my choice of fashion, and I poked fun at his fastidious, controlling nature. He was such a bully at times, that I wasn't sure whether to deck him, or help him.

"Tomato soup, again?"

"You'll drink it, and like it, Traynor."

His eyes narrowed. "When did you get so bloody assertive, Clarke?"

I narrowed mine right back. "After a certain somebody bullied beyond comfort."

"You've got a lot to thank that man for."

"Oh, yes. Those nightmares were _so_ worth it."

He voice grew small. "Listen…Clark. I'm sorry. I know I was horrible at first. I still am, I know." He laughed. "But thank you…for sticking around."

The smile I gave him return barely contained the happiness that threatened to burst my fluttering heart. Will's physical health took a turn in August. A good turn, I mean. He was able to walk a metre or two at the beginning of August, which slowly grew to 5, and then 10. The Traynors were overjoyed, though it seemed that no amount of ice could thaw the ice that had grown between them. They were cordial, and polite, but hardly in love. Being around my parents my whole life had taught me that love was warm, and selfless. I would remember my father taking care of my mother when she was sick, fumbling around in the kitchen for an hour preparing what appeared to be poached eggs and bacon. I would remember my mother holding my father and stroking his hair after lost the job at the factory. The Traynors were so obviously far away from that dream.

* * *

Will met me out in front of the castle in the morning, and we went for a walk across the grounds. He was still slow, occasionally stumbled, and required a stop or two along the way, but otherwise, managed to hold his own. He hummed during the silences. He was in a good mood.

"Something got you particularly happy this morning?"

He nodded, and smiled again. Gosh, what was up with him? "Something like that."

"What is it? Go on."

"Alicia is getting married."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"You're happy about that?"

"Oh, yes."

"Are you sure this isn't one of those delayed responses or whatever? I'm not going to find you cutting her face out of all your photos one evening, am I?"

"And subject you to the clean-up and psych examination following that? No, of course not. I'm just…happy that she's happy."

"And you?"

"I'm happy as well." He glanced over and smiled. "Really. I am. But that isn't really the question here."

"Oh?"

"I need somebody to take me. I haven't got my licence back yet. They won't give it back until I've passed a few more examinations. Until this twitch subsides, I'm stuck. Nathan can't, so…"

"Of course." I kept my face trained forward to keep from smiling.

"Great. But, Clark. Wait." He stopped, and placed his hands into his pockets. Suddenly, Will Traynor was fidgeting. It was so unlike him, I was close to laughing out loud. This must have been what he looked like when he was nervous.

"Will?"

"Clark…this job will be the last for you. Since I've been back on my feet, I don't really need the extra assistance anymore."

"Oh."

He waved his hands in a manner that seemed to be reassuring. "We'll arrange a severance package, and prepare a great reference for you before you leave. Either way, I'm taking care of you. For what you did…I couldn't thank you enough."

I swallowed. "I knew it was coming…I just…forgot, I guess."

"I'm sorry…I wish-"

I brightened. "Don't be. I knew it was coming. Now my only worry is finding a fabulous dress for that wedding of yours. When is it again?"

* * *

I had lied to him, of course. The evening I went home, I was a wreck of emotion. I had grown so close to Will, so attuned to his needs, his conversations, our proximity, that being away felt like being a sailor away at sea. The job hunting went well, and I secured a steady paying job at the local pharmacy, packing pill boxes and unwrapping merchandise. The work was so mundane, that some days, I routinely imagined stabbing myself in the eye just to feel something. Will still kept in touch, by email at first, and then shaky handwritten letters when the strength in his hands improved.

The evening of the wedding, I drove up to the castle after what felt like months. Will…looked like Will. He looked bulkier than before, brighter also. Colour had rushed back into his skin, and his hair seemed shinier. I wore a blue lace swing dress, and had managed my hair back into a French twist. His nod of approval received an embarrassing blush in return.

The ceremony was especially long, but Will kept his patience in check, and I followed his lead. The vows were a little soppy, but incredibly sweet. The crying bridesmaids were what I couldn't understand. It wasn't that bloody emotional.

Alicia's reception was just as grand as the ceremony. The open bar was especially generous, enough to make up for the paltry servings of food that were given. It was what my uncle Rupert would have called, "rabbit food."

I was halfway through my third champagne, when I spluttered, spraying Will, and the guest he was speaking to, with a big mouthful of bubbles.

"I'm supposed to be driving." I was already feeling dizzy. Bloody hell.

"Some kind of employee, you are."

"There's a hotel just down the street, dear. Here." She offered a shiny card with the word, "The Lodge" flowered across them in red words.

"Oh, no. I'll sober up. Or we can catch a cab…or…"

Will shook his head, still smiling. He held out his card. "We can take the hotel. Make the booking. Pass my details along."

"I can pay my half." I fumbled around for my handbag in vain.

"We'll dock your pay, whatever it is, just go and book it."

* * *

The libations increased in number and strength over the night. With nothing to hold us back, we took down one bottle of whiskey, and half a bottle of tequila before we were lead out of the marquee. The hotel waved in front of us like the funniest mushroom mirage. The bewildered receptionist barely stuttered out a hello before we were passed out on the carpet. The next thing I remember, we were being dragged up to the room by two burly men.

I threw up a lot of the drink, and then cleared out of the bathroom for Will to unload. The giggling had subsided by the time he collapsed next to me.

"My tongue feels furry. Like a cat's tail, or something."

Will laughed, hard. It rumbled through his chest, and met his eyes. "See that light up there? I've finally realised that it's just the one light. I was thinking in the plural for so long."

I didn't find it particularly funny, but laughed anyway, until my chest hurt. Sometime later, music started to billow through the room, a muffled kind of sound from next door. Some classical piece I was sure Will could identify.

I sat up off the carpet, and offered him a hand.

His body was steadier than mine, and he held me close while we swayed. It felt good, being held like this, being taken care of. Patrick had only wanted sex and exercise. Not necessarily in that order. Will was more. He was so much more.

"Will?"

"Mmmmm." He was stroking my hair, and had his eyes closed.

"I don't want to go." I was whining like a child. I buried my head in his chest. I barely cared. He felt so warm.

"Go where?"

"Away from you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"But I am."

He released me, and staggered back a few steps. "Where?"

I waved my hands about. "I'm fired, remember?"

He seemed relieved. "You're not fired."

"I've been let go. Whatever."

"Lou—"

"No Clark?"

"I miss you."

I blinked. And then he stood three steps forward, and took me again in his arms. His face hovered inches from mine, his lips lowered down, so close to my own, I was sure my lips were quivering.

"Wait, you're drunk Will." I stumbled back a few steps, shaking my head. I knew he wasn't. Those eyes were as focused as ever. They were sure. Determined.

A tear slipped down my cheek. And then he was there, his hands either side of my head, his body close. He kissed that tear away; gently, tenderly. I breathed, and buried my fingers in his hair, letting the knot in my stomach slip loose. He kissed my other cheek, my lips, my eyelids. The fire in my stomach reached a climax when those lips met mine, and I nearly fell apart. The kisses grew stronger, more urgent. His lips ran over my skin, whispering my name, sending my heart into a frenzied beat. His eyes met mine when he cautiously slid the zipper of my dress down. Those eyes held so much, so much more than I had ever seen. It seemed like it had always been there.

Love.

His lips were back on my skin, his kisses brushing along my collarbone, my hairline, and he was everywhere…and then there was completion.

* * *

We lay together after, ensconced, thoroughly sated, so much love. His lips were relentless. He looked at me like I was a dream, like I was glass, so fragile and quick to break. It was there in every touch, every murmur. It was weird, because that was exactly how I felt about him. _He_ was the dream. To think of myself as this man's dream…this incredible, accomplished man's dreams…I couldn't believe it. I could only cup his face, and kiss him as hard as my lips would allow.

That would have to be enough.

"Oh, Clark. If you had any idea what I wanted to do to you months ago…you would have ran kicking and screaming."

I laughed, and turned to face him. His face was glowing, his eyes a buttery hazel by the warmth of the fire. I kissed him, slowly, and then murmured, "I'm not too sure about that."

"You definitely wouldn't have given me a look-see at those breasts."

I shoved him. "Please. You wouldn't have even looked at them if you had the choice."

His smile softened. "I know. I was a jerk. The accident changed so many things. I thought my life was over, and then it got better. Much, much better."

"Oh, yes?"

He shifted, and moved on top of me again. My hands reached up to his face, and stroked his hair. He closed his eyes, and sighed.

"Why did you want me Will? Why me?"

His eyes flew open, and then he leaned down close. "You make me heart beat wild, Clark. You make the whole world spin, with all those crazy dresses, and insane energy, I'm sure of it. You're everything."

The tears started again. And then, he kissed me, and the night was lost.

 _ **Review?**_


	3. Chapter 3

I ran downstairs, as fast as I could, and ran straight into Will's arms. My heart thumped hard from the exertion, and his body slammed hard and fast into mine. The warm presence of Will, his scent, and the strength of his arms around my body were full of an unparalleled, familiar comfort.

"Missed you too, Clark." He pulled back from the hug, and flashed me that smile, that million dollar smile.

My lips instinctively reached for his, and I kissed him. When I pulled back, I leaned my forehead against his, and smiled, eyes still closed. His lips were still ensconced with mine. He was smiling.

"You've been gone so long, Will. 3 months really is too long."

"I know, Clark. But this is the last long trip, I promise."

I narrowed my eyes.

"The baby's coming any day now." My fingers enclosed around my burgeoning belly. It was true. The miracle had happened, and so soon, too soon, it was on its way into our alien universe. I couldn't welcome it without Will; the Will who knew all the answers; my Will with the strong, big hands, and assuring smile. I would collapse without him to hold me, I was sure.

His hands closed over mine, and he kissed me. "I know."

* * *

"He's still got a slight fever, I think I'll put him down for another nap. Where's the baby Tylenol?"

I turned as I fastened my earring on. The baby yawned and curled up against Will's chest. "Top shelf."

I reached out and felt the baby's forehead. Heat radiated from his skin, and prickled my fingertips. He felt a little better than he had earlier. I kissed him gently.

"He'll be alright."

"And where are you going?"

"I have to submit some designs for the expo, and then I'll be back in an hour, I promise."

I kissed him, and the baby once more. On my way out, I glanced back and smiled. Will was walking around the living room, whispering to the baby, cradling him close to his chest as the baby slept soundly.

* * *

"The baby's down, and we're ready to go, baby!" I finally managed to pull the zipper of my dress up, and then yelped, when Will flew by, and grabbed me. He twirled me around his arms.

"William Traynor, you put me down this instant."

"No, I will not, mother of my child."

"Your wife tells you to put her down promptly before she bleeds you dry."

"Oooft. Harsh, Clark."

I wound my arms around his neck. "When she hasn't slept for three days that kind of thing tends to happen. But hoorah, I don't smell like vomit and baby powder, and I've got a clean dress on. Miracle of miracles."

I laughed, but stopped abruptly when he leant down and burrowed his face into the crook between my shoulder and neck. "You smell like heaven. And that dress was designed to kill me, I know."

I still shuddered whenever he drew this close, warm, and carrying a scent only Will could emanate.

"Oh, you have no idea, Traynor."

* * *

The party was lavish, and horribly overdone, despite our host's attempt to damp down the pretentious vibes. Perhaps they had recognised too late that this looked nothing like the humble charity ball they had promised, and had become a testament to their wealth and great stature.

The portions of food were criminally small, so Will shared his measly portions with me. I couldn't drink either, lest I ruin the baby's supply. We danced a little though, which was lovely. Will held me close, and whispered sweet things to me. It felt like a night we had snatched away from the past.

We left just as the clouds unleashed their heavy burden. Rain pelted down in furious whips, angry and unassuming.

"Come on, let's get under the canopy, you'll get sick."

That was Will. I let him hand slip from mine, and stepped back in the rain. The rain beat down harder, tapping on my skin, and washing away everything that had passed. I felt young, and whole again. My body hadn't been ravaged, and torn apart, and my heart had not been weighed with the hardships of Will's months of recuperation. I held my arms wide, and then turned, and motioned for Will. He was already watching me, transfixed, a smile at his lips, and simply reached out to grab my outstretched hand.

When we reached our home, we were dripping wet, laughing, and I was shivering, and then Will was there. He pulled me close, rubbed his hands between mine. Time stood still. His eyes locked with mine. Droplets of rain trailed down the edge of his face. My hands reached out and traced the edge of his wet lips with a fingertip. I swallowed.

Will peeled my dress off, skirting his warm hands along my skin as he did so. I stared up at him, and then swiftly undid his buttons. And then, Will laid me back on that bed, and made love to me like we were young again. The rain beat hard against the windows, but the balcony stayed clear and dry, and the doors welcomed the sound of lightning and rain on a night that seemed so familiar.

The sun rose the next day, and the baby's cries echoed through the halls and into our room. We stirred, and then blinked at each other for a moment.

"I'll take the baby."

"And I'll make breakfast. How does pancakes sound?"

"Sounds normal."


End file.
